Time
by Lellow
Summary: Before she had loved him, he had given her his heart.


DISCLAIMER: All characters, places and situations in this piece of fiction would not be in existence without the genius of Watsuki Nobuhiro. There is no money being made of this piece of imagination

TIMELINE: Otsu, 1864

SPOILERS: Direct quotations taken from Rurouni Kenshin, Volume 20, Act 172; By the Farmlands.

SYNOPSIS: Before she had loved him, he had given her his heart.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: I wrote this a while ago and just polished it up today. Part of me was thinking of putting it in my series of drabbles for 'Aspects of Love' but I think this deserves its own title and synopsis.

Please R&R.

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_**Time**_

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_Gift to me, _

_Forever_

_**Kissing You - Des'ree**_

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'...Five months of living in the farmlands with you has shown me what I've been fighting for... What I must keep fighting for...'

Tomoe followed him into the house, the children's laughter dissipating as they ran back into the village, racing against the sun to be home before dark. The sound, once comforting as it heralded another peaceful night with the one she loved, today, rang hollowly in her heart. She had seen that man I'izuka, watched as Kenshin surreptitiously walked with him out into the farmlands to speak of the blood and chaos. Since then Tomoe's heart had lodged itself in her throat. I'izuka's presence had always disturbed her. He was the last remaining connection to the war, the last threat to this tiny, bourgeoning happiness they had both found.

_Would today be the day they would take him away? Back to his hitokiri life. _

'...I know the battle will resume eventually, but I hope, I at least will be able to welcome the New Year like this...' He turned to face her, the look in his eyes questioning. So enraptured was she in her thoughts she had forgotten to move. 'Is something wrong?'

Tomoe blinked, as though she had just seen him. She shook her head and slowly made her way to their home.

_Our home..._

'I hope we can welcome the New Year this way too' she replied finally finding her voice.

She entered the house before him, ignoring the question in his eyes. She made her way to the kitchen and hastily began dinner preparations.

Daikon, fish, spring onions and mushrooms

Tomoe pulled out a sharp knife, briefly noting her reflection in the shiny steel and began cutting the daikon. She had known this life wouldn't last. Not while the war threatened to pull Japan apart.

But she had hoped.

The familiar sounds of his presence behind her soothed her, the near silence of his movements as he stoked the fire, ready for cooking. She turned to look at him, marvelling again at how such a common task could paint such serenity and contentment on his face. His eyes flickered up to meet hers, sensing her gaze on him, his lips curving into a small, almost imperceptible smile. Tomoe felt her cheeks heat slightly, she turned back to her work, heartbeat racing.

_How does he __**do**__ that?_

It wasn't just his smile. It was something in his eyes. He had seen something in her, despite her contempt, her pain, and her eternally placid expression. A light she had thought she had lost so long ago.

And every time she saw her own soul reflected in his eyes she saw it too.

_Without him... _

The thought had taken her breath away and her hand slipped, the knife cutting her thumb. Her sharp intake of breath alerted her husband, who was at her side in an instant. Gently he took her hand and looked at the wound appraisingly. His eyes were narrowed and yellow.

_Blood _

No sooner had she thought this did he blink, his eyes returning to the familiar peaceful violet.

_Had the familiar smell awoken something in him?_ She wondered. _Did he long to return to his life as a hitokiri?_

No matter what he said that life was part of him now...

'It's not deep' he said breaking through her thoughts. At some point in her musings he had gone to his medicine box and taken out a bandage and some ointment. She watched with fascination as he gently treated the small wound.

To her Kenshin had always been a study in contrasts; quiet, restrained and capable of the gentlest of touches, yet possessing frightening strength and command. His eyes held an intensity which made her want to run away, either from fear or from the suspicion that if he looked at her for too long he could read her thoughts.

Like right now.

'I saw I'izuka.' Tomoe said, although he was not looking at her directly, she could still feel the question that burned in his eyes since they had come into their home.

Kenshin lifted his gaze to hers but said nothing, her hand still in his. The silence that hung between them was always a battle. He always won.

'Are you...'

'I'm not going anywhere' he said, as though she had spilled her hearts uncertainties into those two words. 'I'izuka came to tell me what has been happening in Kyoto.' He turned his attention back to her injured finger. 'It is not going well'

Tomoe gave a curt nod. She held no sentiment for that city of sin and chaos. She could not care less if it burned to the ground like it almost did last July. She could only wish she could burn her past along with it.

He finished bandaging her finger and lifted it to his lips, gifting it with a feather light kiss.

'Let me do this'

Before she could protest he reached for the knife and began chopping the daikon. Tomoe stood beside him, watching as he diligently cut the vegetable. She held her injured hand just above her heart, silently willing her heart to desist in its conspicuous fluttering. Whatever he believed her to be was a lie.

_You need to tell him_. Her heart whispered. _He needs to know the truth._

Tomoe clenched both her hands into fists. She will tell him, now, before she lost the courage.

'Anata...'

He turned to look at her, his eyes warm, expectant. Tomoe's heart ached.

How would he look at her if he knew of her truth? Her darkness...

Tomoe swallowed.

'Can you cut the onions too?'

Kenshin's eyes widened slightly before he nodded and turned back to the task.

Tomoe felt her hands trembling at her sides.

She couldn't do it.

Not now, not yet.

She needed him to believe in her just a little while longer, even if she didn't deserve it.

_They've forgotten me._ She tried to convince herself. _And if they haven't they won't find me here. _

_There's still time. _


End file.
